


Hell's Academy

by BLMBOOKS



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27843556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BLMBOOKS/pseuds/BLMBOOKS
Summary: Surviving the harsh streets of BrookHeights. EasySurviving a school for demons. Not so easyWhen seventeen-year-old Amara D'amencourt finds out she's half-demon, she must face the horrors that await her at Hell's Academy.Learning to control her demonic powers might seem hard, but when someone threatens her new home, her powers could be the only way of saving it.Survival here might take a lot more than she expected.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

“You must find her, Beltaine, the girl is our only hope”.

The room was dimly lit with several candles. In the centre, in front of the large stained glass window, stood a large oakwood desk covered in papers and files.

“And what if I can’t? Then what?”.

Lughnasadh looked up from his desk, from the paper that he held in his hands. He was shaking, his hands trembling.

“If you can’t find her, then we’ve lost” he replied, placing the sheet of paper down and standing up from his chair. He moved slowly towards the fireplace where flames would usually be flickering- with the logs unlit it stood cold and empty of its usual warmth.

“If you fail, then the  _ Aos Sí  _ will return, and destroy us.” He let out a sigh, his face turning almost to stone as he stared into the empty fireplace at the logs. If they failed, everything would fall.

Beltaine moved out of the flickering shadows, “we cannot let them return, Lughnasadh. If they do, then the school, the students, they’re both in danger”.

Lughnasadh nodded, “Yes.” His tone, solemn. His voice, shaking.

“So I won’t fail.”

Lughnasadh chuckled, “Your optimism is a nice change.”

“Her name, Lughnasadh, I need her name.” Beltaine moved from the shadows and towards the empty fireplace. He waved his hand and the logs burst into flames, engulfing the room in a wave of heat and light.

“Her name…” Lughnasadh started moving away from the fire and picking up the sheet of paper he had laid on his desk. On the paper, scribbled delicately in shiny royal blue ink, was a name. Just one name. The girl they discussed held the key to saving their world, a world their ancestors had worked hard to create and protect. Their world rested on her shoulders and he hoped,  _ wished _ , that she would be able to solve everything.

“Amara D’amencourt”.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

  
  


Growing up on the streets of BrookHeights you had to be able to tell if you were being scammed, it could be the difference of having a hot meal or going another night on an empty stomach. Of course, with scammers, it takes one to know one. 

I sat on the curb, watching as cars, taxis, and bikes whizzed past me, navigating through the streets of downtown New York. I didn’t know why, but I’d often sit watching people, it was oddly comforting to see them go about their day; and, of course, a great way to pick out the easiest to scam from a crowd. No one caught my eye today.

Instead, I watched as groups of kids, roughly around my age, walked to school: Francis Lewis High School. I remembered going there a few years back, I’d been expelled for something I didn’t remember, it had been so long since I had thought about it, that all memories escaped me. I could barely recall what the school looked like but, in the back of my mind, something felt familiar about the uniform and the hundreds of kids that walked down Main street every day at 7:15 am.

Without warning, something with a slight weight dropped into my lap. My gaze moved from the sea of tartan skirts to my lap where a couple of silver coins had been tossed: eight quarters. I looked around wildly, to see if I could find who had given me the money. All I saw was the back of a young man, wearing a charcoal grey suit, walking away from me. Picking up the coins in my hand, I slipped them into my pocket, looks like I was getting breakfast today.

I stood up and hurried into a small bakery before anyone could take the precious coins away from me. The smell of fresh bread wafted into my face as I opened the door; a little bell tinkled overhead as I crossed the threshold. 

A large woman stood behind the counter, placing cakes, pastries, and other delicacies in a heated display cabinet. My mouth began to salivate at the sight of the freshly baked pain au chocolat, glazed churros, and pretzels. She watched me carefully as I walked up to the display case, pressing my face against the glass, trying to take in the delicious sight of all the food. Most of the food was too expensive for me to buy, so I opted for a fresh croissant that was priced at $3.

Aside from the quarters that strange, yet kind man, had dropped into my lap, I had scraped up a little more over time while living on the streets which I kept hidden in an old Campbell’s soup tin. There was some money in my pockets that I had been trying to save but, as I stared at the rows of crispy, golden, pastry and my stomach let out a low growl, I knew I had to eat.

I thought for a moment and then walked up to the counter under the cautious glare of the owner.

“I’d like a croissant please”

I knew what she thought I was, I’d been called it many times by random strangers that passed me: Street Rat. Even I could admit that I didn’t look great; my curls had matted together into dreads, grime had crept under every crevice of my nails, and dirt covered my skin. 

She looked at me sceptically and then packed the largest croissant into a brown paper bag and laid it on the counter.

“ A dollar fifty,” she said through a thick Queens accent.

“A dollar fifty? But it says-.”

“Look, d’ya want it, or not,” she snapped.

I placed the coins on the counter and bolted before she changed her mind. She must have slipped something else in without me noticing because, when I opened the brown bag, two fresh croissants met my eyes. 

Grinning, I dug into the first piece of pastry that I grabbed, feeling it flake in my mouth and practically melt. It was delicious.

I silently thanked that man from earlier as I chewed the golden slice of heaven that I had just taken another bite of. It had been a long while since I had something hot, or even remotely warm, for breakfast, and choosing a croissant was definitely the right choice.

I began wandering around the streets of Queens, expertly dodging through the crowds and across busy streets, and headed towards a large open park. Trees framed the open field of emerald green grass and hundreds of flowers that grew haphazardly around it; It was such a beautiful sight for such a dingy city.

I sat down placing my hands down at my side, dropping the paper bag in my lap, and feeling the thousands of blades of grass between my fingers. The warmth from the sun, heated my skin as if I had just stepped into a nice warm bath or drunk a large cup of coffee. Honestly, without caffeine, I would not have lasted this long.

So many different people enjoyed the park as much as I did; old and young. I watched as a young couple walked past with a stroller which seemed to be screaming at the top of its non-existent lungs; that baby clearly wasn’t having a nice time.

Seeing them brought back the memories of visiting this park with my dad when I was younger. Dad would bring me here whenever I was upset, and we’d sit at the edge of the lake eating ice cream.

I shook my head-  _ No I promised myself I wouldn’t think about him.  _

I looked around, watching the breeze flutter through the trees sending the yellowing leaves tumbling to the ground. It was getting colder by the day as the start of September rolled around which meant only one thing- I had to find someplace warm to spend the winter months.

Edging closer to the water, I rolled up my sleeve, cautiously dipping my hand into the water, feeling it weave back and forth between my fingers-  _ Oddly soothing _ .

A shout jolted me back to reality. A couple of kids had run into the water, their mothers screaming at them to get out before they caught a cold. Usually, I’d side with the kids about letting them have as much fun as they can; but even I thought it was ridiculous to be in the water in early September, it was freezing. I smiled as they splashed each other with the icy water, remembering what it was like to be their age, so young and carefree.

It seemed like a lifetime since I had been carefree and safe. I didn't know what it felt like anymore.

I retracted my hand, as something brushed up against it in the water, and looked down. Floating in the water was a bottle. I don’t mean a random empty beer bottle, but a clear glass bottle, with a small bound up scroll, tucked inside and sealed with a cork. I stared at it for a moment and then plucked it out of the water before it could float away from me. 

The glass felt cold against my legs as I trapped it behind my knee and began tugging to get it to release the cork from its iron grip. It let go with a satisfying pop and I began shaking it to coerce the scroll from its home within the belly of the bottle. It fell into my palm, the royal blue ribbon bound around it kept the scroll tightly wrapped.

_ Why was I so curious? _ I couldn’t tell, but something kept me from pulling myself from the mystery of the bottle. It probably wasn’t going to be anything special, most likely a child’s wishes that they had thrown into the lake; But as my fingers brushed over the wax seal, that thought disappeared. This was too professional, too skilled for a young child’s wishes. 

I couldn’t contain myself much longer, picking at the seal until it broke free from the paper and the ribbon unbound itself, letting the scroll unfurl in my hands. As I began to unroll the paper thoughts flashed across my mind; maybe it was a treasure map, or maybe a deed to a long-forgotten property, or maybe it was- _ Empty? _

The piece of paper that I had unrolled in my hands was blank, not even a scribble.

I let out a sigh and was almost about to give up when I noticed something. The corner that was basked in sunlight, had begun to reveal curly scribbles of writing. I moved the paper and let it lie in the sunlight that had begun to filter through the trees and heavy smog that lay across Queens. Slowly, as if like magic, scribbles in blue ink began to appear before my eyes.

Internally I was squealing- this was  _ EPIC _ ! On the outside, I was watching in awe as the writing materialised. Once nothing else was appearing, I moved the paper back into my lap and began to read.

_ Dear Miss D’amencourt, _

_ You don’t know me, but I certainly know you. I have been watching you for a couple of days now, waiting for the best chance to reveal myself to you. If you’re reading this, then I’ve seized that moment. I’m sure that this must be confusing to you, but if you meet me behind Spink’s, the pawnshop on 58th Avenue, then I’ll explain more. _

_ Sincerely, Professor Beltaine _

_ P.S. I know about your father. _

I sat in shock, reading and rereading the note over and over again until I had it memorised. 

Someone had been watching me? They knew my name. They knew my _ Father! _

Should I go? No, that would be stupid and, not to mention, very fucking dangerous. But, it was only a short walk from where I sat in Kissena Park.

_ No. _

I shook the thought from my head, how idiotic could I be? Following a note from a stranger, into a creepy alley behind a dodgy pawn shop?  _ Dumb! Fucking dumb! _

Still, this person knew who I was, had been following me for a couple of days, and still knew my father. I thought about it for a moment, and, even though I had decided it was the fucking dumbest idea I had ever heard, began my walk to Spink’s Pawnshop.

This is it, I’m dead.


End file.
